| You will not be able to stay home, brotha
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| You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out
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| You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip out for beer during commercials
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| Because the revolution will not be televised
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| This right here for the number one
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| Number one shit with your number one
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| You ain’t number one, just another one
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| Now everybody sayin' that they’re number one
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| Ring the alarm, the caterpillar keeps firing
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| Ohh, we in the war, where butterflies keep dyin' (ahh)
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| I'm a product of Parker Lewis and Kubiak
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| If I didn't do this, where in the fuck would you be at?
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| See there's a difference between us, what I spit hit arenas
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| You a drip from my penis, I eat lions and sip hyenas
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| You number one when it come to slaughtering mics
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| I'm tryna be number one in my son and daughter life
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| Uhh, all you niggas my little rapper babies
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| Y'all my children, y'all bit my shit and contracted rabies
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| Don't you grade me next to these rappers, baby, that's degrading
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| My style got so many different facets
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| I switch into so many different passions
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| I'm skippin' class to be fascinatin'
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| My pen is like Big Ben, this shit's just a classic waiting
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| Your favorite rapper come at me, I just decapitate him
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| I hate congratulating these has-beens who had their highs
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| These rappers only won their matches because they strategize
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| I bring Attica to these patterns, and here's my battle cry
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| Ring the alarm, the caterpillar is firing
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| Ohh, we in the war, where butterflies keep dyin' (ahh)
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| This right here for the number one
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| Number one shit with your number one
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| You ain’t number one, just another one
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| Now everybody sayin' that they’re number one
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| Kid think your number won't quit
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| Number one song, get your number one chick
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| Number one fly with your number one kick
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| When it's all done then your number gon' switch
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| Hold up, wait a minute
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| Guess what I'ma never do? |
| Show so much respect to you
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| That I feel like we're friends, so now we no longer competitors
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| That could be the death of you
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| Never let someone who's not as smart as you
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| Gas you up and tell you somethin' you never knew
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| Always stay professional, you always gon' make revenue
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| Don't let people next to you that don't want the best for you
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| It's completely normal to hold on to a regret or two
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| I do what I wanna do, they do what I let them do
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| Everything these niggas be sayin' is a fuckin' lie
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| It's nothing I can say to you that is realer
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| Remember when you praisin' the butterfly
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| Don't you ever disrespect the fuckin' caterpillar
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| This right here for the number one
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| Number one shit with your number one
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| You ain’t number one, just another one
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| Now everybody sayin' that they’re number one
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| Kid think your number won't quit
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| Number one song, get your number one chick
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| Number one fly with your number one kick
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| When it's all done then your number gon' switch
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| You're looking at Attila, the psychopathic killer, the caterpillar
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| Don't tell me when I'm supposed to rap until
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| Especially when your favorite rapper ain't even half as ill
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| A savage still, the track's a banana peel, attack of the silverback gorilla
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| You're havin' a little trouble fathomin' this is actually happenin'
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| Like Anderson Silva back when he snapped his shin in half
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| And then had the shit hangin' by a flap of skin
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| After he tried to plant the shit back on the mat again
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| Pad to pen I’m batty like eyelids when they're blinkin' a lot
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| You copy me, but you're not
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| You can't be butterflies, my offsprings are just moths
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| I see that thing I'ma squash it and rip the wings of it off
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| So ring the alarm, pull the extinguishers off of the wall
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| Set the sprinklers off like Jada Pinkett and Queen Latifah
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| 'Till the shingles come off the roof we'll shout at the ceiling
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| Slaughterhouse in the building, middle fingers aloft
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| Say what I think when I rhyme, in ink-pen I talk
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| And the language I speak is my mind
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| Kingpin and Penguin combined
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| Spit like it's King of the Dot
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| A singular thought I think of will help you distinguish apart
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| The frauds from the cream of the crop
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| (Wait a minute) Hold up like a flashcard
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| Damn dawg, is that copyin' or payin' homage? |
| It's sad because dad taught you to rap as a damn toddler
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| My dad is your grandfather, I'll have to re-hatch on you
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| Come back as a black wasp, half yellow jacket, you can't swat a
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| Sasquatch dancing on top of an ant trample it and stomp it
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| Smash it and stand on it, dammit, I can't stop it
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| The rap is a vag' and I'm goin' in like a tampon in this bitch
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| It's a manslaughter
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| Stampin' out grasshoppers, you can't be no Rap Gods
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| In fact you're exact opposites, you make a wack song
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| And can't hold a candle but even Daniel-san whacks off
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| You jack-offs need to come to grips like a hand job
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| The boom bap is coming back with an axe to mumble rap
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| Lumberjack with a hacksaw
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| Number one, but my pencils are number twos
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| 'Cause that's all I dos with 'em,
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| Poop is my pseudonym
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| On the john like a prostitute when I'm droppin' a deuce
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| And when I'm producing them lyrical bowel movements
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| These beats are like my saloons
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| 'Cause these bars always got my stools in 'em
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| And I don't need Metamucil to loosen 'em
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| Bitch, shit is real like I pooped Jerusalem
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| I'm 'bout to go spin another cocoon
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| Then I'm cuttin' you from your mother's womb
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| Then I'm flushin' you! |